And here’s how it went down: Just as I was getting ready to leave work two Mondays ago, I got a text from my musical sherpa Clay saying that an un-picked-over stack of records had appeared at a nearby Goodwill. You might remember Clay. He’s the one who gifted me a killer seed collection of 45s and told me which record stores to visit when I traveled to Nashville for a wedding. Clay knows how much I love records, and despite the fact that his interests are more aligned with CDs, he’ll often give me a heads up when there’s a used vinyl situation worth investigating. One time he walked me through a promising offering of 45s over the phone when I was getting ready to head out of town and couldn’t check them out in person:

Thankfully, fatefully, I was able to answer Clay’s most recent summons in person. I started with the stack he’d seen and found seven or eight keepers — titles by Miles Davis, Joni Mitchell and a few other familiar artists, almost every one in tip-top shape. For those of you who don’t spend your lunch breaks digging through scratched-up records at thrift stores, I should point out that, as of this point, it had already been a banner day. One Miles Davis record in playable shape is reason to celebrate. Two? Dream on.

But something truly dreamlike happened next. While I was still lingering/deciding what to buy, a Goodwill employee walked over with an armful of newly donated records, plopped them down between me and another crate digger and said seven words I’ll never forget:

In total, three armfuls came out, and I had first crack at two of them. You can see the results of the frenzied minutes that followed above. In my eyes, the pièce de résistance is the autumnally adorned Beatles For Sale, an album that was never released in the U.S. (a U.S. version called Beatles ’65 was released, but it omitted a few songs that were on the British one). I’d been looking for Beatles For Sale for years, but had never actually seen one in person, not counting the 2012 reissue. Now I have, it’s in great shape, and taking it home only cost me $1.

It’s tempting to call the whole episode lucky — like, super-duper lucky — but I know there’s more to it than that. There’s certainly luck involved, but Beatles records and being in the right place at the right time are symptoms of something bigger, I think. Real luck is having thoughtful friends who look out for you and share your passions. It’s being married to someone who is patiently letting you figure out where the hell to put all these damn records that keep making their way into the house. It’s having been raised by parents who love music and never stopped encouraging you to explore it. These are the things that make days like the Monday before last possible, and with 32 new pieces of evidence leaning against the wall in my living room, I won’t soon forget it.

None of the albums pictured above feature a song with the word “lucky” in the title, and “Baby You’re A Rich Man” didn’t feel right at all, so I’m going to ask a pair of robots play us off. Hope y’all have an awesome — and super-duper lucky — weekend.

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One response to “Getting Lucky”

Good haul (except for all that Beach Boys madness). Even through all the CD reissues, I still treasure my original copy of Beatles For Sale – the high-gloss finish, the super-sophisticated single-ply gatefold. It’s just a work of art. Oh yeah, great songs, too! The No Reply-I’m A Loser-Baby’s In Black triple threat opener is hard to beat. Happy listening!